


Ooh, you make me live now honey

by giascali



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build, crowley is bad at feelings but what's new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 20:45:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19411084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giascali/pseuds/giascali
Summary: Three times in which respectively Crowley accepts something, realizes an inconvenience and starts to hope. At the end he just wants to scream, though.





	Ooh, you make me live now honey

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the first time I try to write fir this fandom so I'm little nervous. I hope you will like it~  
> As always a huge thanks to bobo169, who deals with me and my doubts daily and needs a medal for this.

Rome, 1600.

Maybe this is not the proper time to chat amiably, but Crowley doesn't really give a shit about reputation, not when in a matter of thirty years all the people present here will be dead.

He pats Angel on the shoulder, before he stops on his opposite side, enjoying his quaffing. For an istant, he almost smiles but then remembers where they are and simply says: - Crowley -.

\- Aziraphael -, he greets him, watching halfway between horror and awe at the flames. The screaming have stopped long time ago but there are still people around. - Thoughts on this lovely show? Are They satisfied? - 

Maybe it's an angels' characteristic, the fact that they can't lie, or maybe it's just inside Aziraphael's nature being bloodily transparent, but the other doesn't hide his disdain. - Nobody would like watching an innocent die, Crowley -.

\- Not nice people for sure, not really sure about them. Seems to me they're enjoying themselves enough for me. For a moment I thought there were one or two of my colleagues -.   
\- So I can assume this is not a work of yours? -  
\- Sincerely, I thought it was one of your side, giving all the ceremony and everything -.  
\- So it was all their doing - he says, sounding upset. Crowley looks at him with the corner of the eye. He does seem upset.  
\- Did you know him? -

Aziraphael wobbles a little, looks around (you can never be too cautious in these years) and blushes a bit, as if Crowley just discovered him doing something embarassing.

\- I... - he stalls for some seconds, before he decides on which word to use. - used to watch over him, keeping my distancies. When he received the notice, I... Well, I was sure it was your side's doing so I offered to help him but he denied. It's such a shame it's always the best ones -.

Crowley makes in time to hide his grin when he notices Angel's tear falling down his cheek, and hums in agreement. - It reminds me of the ones in Athene -, he comments after some minutes, just enough time to let Aziraphael recompose himself. 

\- History does seem to repeat itself, uh? - he adds when he doesn't receives any answer. He continues looking at the pyre and probably this isn't very much sane, not when it happened already many times, it's going to happen again and you're not to get used to it because you're too much nice.

Crowley wonders what would be the reaction of another angel, if they were in Aziraphael's shoes. He doubts they would be so affected. He doubts they would have tried to help him. But it's not really a surprise realizing he's different from his kind, like him.

\- What about if we go to lunch, get drunk and reminisce him. Sounds good to you? -

Part of him is asking, screaming why he's doing this, why he's complicating his existence just because Angel seems upset but the other kind of already knows why. It's not a matter about sides, he stopped taking them seriously ages ago, probably when they started seeking for each other just to spend time together, because only they can understand this strange attachment of the other to Earth.

Nobody else can pantomime their grieve for a human because after all what does matter a man that talked about stars and a billion of worlds? In the Ineffable Plan, everyone seems to be replaceable, even the two of them could be substituted, degraded or discorporated in any second and only they would notice it and care.

Maybe it's also because of this that Crowley likes to hang out with Aziraphale so much. Thinking it this way makes it easier to accept it, at least.

Madrid, 1700.

Crowley's world goes upside down again millennia after his fall and it may be even a bigger inconvenience than the first.  
It starts like any other morning and it's probably the best strategy his lizard thoughts could use, because otherwise he would have sensed something was off and have been on the edge all day long.

So, like any other day, he wakes up, dresses and when he's ready to face the world, he does a quick check up on the nearest possible person to tempt. Today is that kind of day, the one where he tempts the first weak minded man or woman he meets and does so at least for five, ten times, just to have something to report in case he'll run in one of his colleagues.

It's kind of a boring job, because he has to do everything by his own and every human he encounters has very simple and common desires, that tend to repeat after a pattern. More food, more money, more time to sleep, more free time... It's unlikely he'll ever run into some kind of faida that could decimate half the city.

At the end of the work he's irritated, grumpy but grateful that at least he has something to look forward to for later: a comedy at theater with Angel.

He starts feeling at peace only when he's standing near the stage; at his left, Angel is snacking with grapes and smiling, visibly amused by the show.  
Around them, people are chatting rather noisily, some of them aren't even paying attention to the actors, who, on the other hand are now talking to a mule.

Strange, he may have been distracted for more than he thought when he was enjoying the moment. Next to him, Aziraphael must sense his gaze, Crowley doesn't even notice he is watching him before he turns and their eyes meet.

Angel gives him a shy smile, looks away and then he fixes his gaze on him again. - Do I have something on my face? - , he asks.

Crowley looks at him for some seconds more, wondering when meeting him has become the best part of his days, weeks, centuries. Why just watching a commoners' comedy with him relaxes him to the point he gets absentminded.

He shakes his head and observes Aziraphael enjoying whatever is going on the stage. He asks himself if he would feel the same, this sort of mix of calm and quiet contentment, had he been in company of another person.

He needs to abruptly hide his disdain at the thought, aware that after all these centuries spent knowing each other, the likes and the hates of the other, having lunch or dinner together, getting drunk and observing humanity grow, he wouldn't have the patience to redo it again with someone else.

Not that he needs to, he could spend the rest of eternity with Angel just doing these things and he wouldn't bat an eye.

... Wait what?

He watches in horror his companion, absolutely ignorant about what he's thinking, feeling even a bit betrayed, because how does he dare making him feel something this annoying and human like, without realizing.

No, he's a demon. This type of... Attachment to someone else can't happen to him, he's probably lived with the humans too long and started interpreting emotions like them. The fact that he enjoys Angel's company doesn't need to mean anything more: they're companions, they lived among humanity ever since it was born, it's perfectly normal imagining a similar future and even looking forward it, because to this day he always had fun.

He may like Angel, but there's nothing more to read about it.

Right? Right.

And so he finally takes his attention back to the show, ignoring this tingly (honestly kinda annoying) feeling that he didn't notice he usually has around Aziraphael until, well, now.

It's just another day, nothing really happened.

London, 1967.

Centuries have passed and Crowley has reached a point in his existence where he can recognize that expecting anything from the world is dumb.   
Wars have started and ended, discoveries have been discovered, humanity finally pretended they landed on the Moon but his feeling for Aziraphael haven't changed.

Not even his annoyance about the overall situation, because, well, it is ridiculous and inconvenient. 

He manages to ignore it for most of the time but there are times where he just needs to stop, because otherwise he risks to start screaming and not stopping until the next decade.

Even if it annoys him, he kind of metabolized that he could continue feeling this way for more time to come and he doesn't really want to act on them, for real, but well, on the other hand he also wants to too.

Many times he fantasized to just take Angel and shake him until he understands and apologizes for being so stupid and obvious and making him feel like this. 

Absolutely unforgivable, he thinks while he saves his sorry ass, without thinking about it for even a second, because the thought of not being able to see him because the idiot got discorporated is unbearable.

Such an inconvenience, he whines inside his mind, watching Aziraphael going on with his existence, like he doesn't know how much influences Crowley's.

Sometimes he feels like the end of a very complicated and millennia long joke, made just to see to which extent he'll go for these feelings and get a laugh out of him.

It's only when he has a whole flask of holy water in his hands that he thinks that maybe, maybe he's not the only one. Because this isn't just doing a favor to a friend, this is going against your nature, your side, your first big decision as an eternal being, for the sake of someone else and usually this should mean something more.

He looks at Aziraphael bewildered, trying to lock eyes and at the same time thinking about all the thing he would usually hate to do that he did, for him: like picking his car's lock or stealing from a church, for Hell's sake.

Angel may like him in that sense a bit, after all.

And suddenly this realization makes him agitated because he had centuries to get used of being the only one feeling this way and he doesn't understand how to act, knowing the thing may be mutual.

Maybe here's his chance to stop fucking pining...

\- You go too fast for me, Crowley -.

Okay, he wants to scream again but at least there is hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos, bookmarks and comments are welcome! If you want to, search for me on twitter (@giascali) or tumblr (@giascali).


End file.
